The Problem of Ulysses S. Grant's Drinking During the Civil War
By LYLE W. DORSETT
Volume IV, Number 2
This is a revised version of a paper read at the Organization of American Historians annual meeting at Philadelphia, April 1982. The author gratefully acknowledges comments from Edward Longacre, William McFreely and John Y. Simon.
Who was Ulysses S. Grant? After more than a century of scrutiny at the hands of historians, journalists and biographers, Grant is as elusive today as he was during his lifetime. That his contemporaries did not know him was noted by Bruce Catton. "Most men who saw U.S. Grant during the Civil War felt that there was something mysterious about him," said Catton. "He looked so much like a completely ordinary man, and what he did was so definitely out of the ordinary, that it seemed as if he must have profound depths that were never visible from the surface." Catton recalled that "Even Sherman, who knew him as well as anybody did, once remarked that he did not understand Grant and did not believe Grant understood himself."1
If Grant's contemporaries failed to grasp the essence of the man, later generations have done little better. Catton summed him up as a man with "common sense . . . actually such an uncommon trait that nobody is ever quite able to define it . . ."2 Allan Nevins attempted to bring light on the general's personality with an especially fuzzy thesis - he had "character."3
I don't pretend to understand everything about this man and all of his complexities. Neither do I say my observations supersede all previous work. Lloyd Lewis, Bruce Catton, John Simon, William McFeely and a few others have all helped bring this enigmatic man into sharper focus. What I offer builds on their significant conclusions. My purpose is to bring one dimension out of the shadows that separated him from his contemporaries and from later generations. In brief what I present is not the whole picture of the real U.S. Grant, but rather one dimension of this remarkable nineteenth-century American.
Underlying our failure to place the personality of Grant into clearer perspective is the problem of his drinking. Because this issue has been avoided by writers who wanted to be kind, savagely distorted by those who wanted to disparage, and misunderstood by those seeking to be genuinely objective, the great general remains elusive. Until the problem of Grant's drinking is openly, objectively, and clinically examined, his character will be shrouded in obscurity.
It is my thesis that Ulysses S. Grant was an alcoholic. Furthermore, his alcoholism had a profound effect upon his generalship. When such a label was placed on him during his lifetime it was considered to be an insult. Today such a diagnosis is not pejorative. Nineteenth century assumptions about alcohol abuse are primitive by the standards of the late twentieth century. To be an inebriate in Grant's America was to be morally inferior. Drinking men and women were viewed as sinful people with weak characters.4 But Grant drank and it caused problems. However, neither he, his friends nor his wife believed him to be morally weak or more prone to sinfulness than most mortals. Furthermore, because Grant did not have a drink the moment he put his feet on the floor each morning, and inasmuch as he could go for weeks, even months, without taking a drink, his admirers could not really believe that he was an alcoholic.
Today we understand that alcoholism is a disease. Some sufferers are on the skid rows of the world where they live from one drink to the next, seemingly incapable of doing anything else. Other alcoholics, however, demonstrate markedly different patterns. Many inflicted with alcoholism are binge drinkers. They hold down jobs, pursue demanding careers, support families, and go for extended periods without a drink. When they do imbibe they take more than a few social drinks. Usually they get drunk. Between drinking bouts they are depressed, full of anger or tension because they want to drink again but are afraid to imbibe because of the consequences to health, job and family relationships.5
Modern research in the field of alcohol has taken another giant step beyond moral stigma of inebrity. Historians can profitably borrow from the medical science in order to better understand the causes of human behavior. Today we know that the propensity to become a problem drinker is inherited. Although this never occurred to anyone in Grant's day, we now know through the pioneer work of Dr. Donald Goodwin, that the evidence strongly indicates that the predisposition to becoming addicted to alcohol is passed on through genes.6
Alcohol science shows us, too, that besides the inherited tendencies of chemical predisposition to alcohol addiction, the environment must encourage alcoholic behavior. Alcohol must be plentiful and readily available, it must be consumed as part of the ceremonies, celebrations, and rituals in the society. Furthermore, regular and excessive drinking - even occasional drunkenness - must be acceptable behavior.7
Turning now to the evidence for alcoholism and alcoholic behavior in Grant's life, let's examine the issue of inheritance. Albert D. Richardson, the journalist who distinguished himself with the publication of Beyond the Mississippi(1867), wrote the laudatory presidential campaign biography of U.S. Grant that was published in 1868. Richardson interviewed Jesse Grant, the general's father. Jesse recalled that his father, Noah, "lost something of his self-control, and acquired the fondness for stimulants . . ." Indeed, it was Noah's drinking, after his wife's death, that caused him to squander his comfortable estate and leave the youngest children to be adopted by neighbors, while the two oldest children, Jesse and his sister Susan, had to fend for themselves.8
Jesse so eschewed his father's lifestyle that he deliberately avoided alcohol and devoted his energies to becoming financially secure. Perhaps Jesse himself had the genetic makeup to become an alcoholic too, but he never allowed the habit to begin. Ulysses, of course, did drink, with disastrous results. No doubt his own need to rebel against his father caused him to use alcohol despite his father's disdain for the practice.
That drinking was a problem in the Grant family can be documented by more than Ulysses' behavior and that of his paternal grandfather. Ulysses's own son, Frederick, had problems as well. In 1874, Colonel Fred Grant was part of George Custer's expedition to the Black Hills. Custar, a strict disciplinarian who never tolerated violations of orders, arrested Colonel Grant for drunkenness after drinking was expressly prohibited by Custer.9
His grandfather's and son's problems notwithstanding, U.S. Grant had his own agony with spirits. Hamlin Garland, who single-handedly undertook one of the earliest major oral history projects when he began his biography of Grant, found ample evidence of drinking. The earliest evidence went back to Ulysses's childhood. Sometimes while his parents were at church, young Grant took one or two friends down into the family storm cellar where they imbibed gulps of blackberry cordial that Jesse had hauled in from another town to be used by the community for medicine during a cholera epidemic.10 This story by itself is insignificant but it is important in a larger context. Ulysses Grant would slip off to take a pull on many a bottle after those early excursions to the cellar.
The Mexican War was probably the place where Grant developed his first serious taste for alcohol. To be sure we know little of his day-to-day activities during that conflict. Nevertheless, it was a war punctuated by many long periods of inactivity and boredom.
Participants who did record day-by-day events underscore the incredible lack of discipline, the paucity of drilling, and the commonplace, excessive drinking. An enlisted man, Joshua E. Jackson, noted the following kinds of things in his diary: "This morning [September 25, 1846] we all was soar[sic] and tired though we had nothing to do but rest . . . I went back in town and got about half Drunk and Enjoyed myself . . ." [October 11, 1846]...me and comrades was well saisfied [sic] had nothing to Do only to Eat and Drink and play cards . . ." [December 27, 1846 we ate dried beef] ". . .and drank our licher [sic]."11 One company commander's correspondence shows how some officers encouraged such behavior. "All things are now right," he wrote his sisters. "I sent to town yesterday for a gallon of rum and this morning treated all the boys to as much as they could drink. It pleased them very much."12
Grant himself certainly drank during the Mexican War. A fellow officer wrote to Albert Richardson that "Grant's life as an army officer was a very quiet, uneventful one. I was in the regiment with him during a portion of the Mexican war, and afterward on the frontier, but really can say nothing of his sayings or doings worth mentioning. He went about a good deal with horse-fanciers, took his drinks, smoked his pipe incessantly, played loo. . ." John Lowe, a man who went to West Point with Grant, saw his old classmate during the conflict in Mexico. Writing to his sister, Lowe said "I saw Lieut. Grant. He has altered very much: he is a short thick man with a beard reaching half way down his waist and I fear he drinks too much but don't you say a word on that subject."13
Just how serious Grant's problem with alcohol was during the war is impossible to determine. No other mention of alcoholic behavior survives. Soon thereafter, however, the commonplace social drinking of soldiers at war became a bothersome habit for young Grant. After his marriage in 1848, he was assigned to Sacketts Harbor, New York, on Lake Ontario. The young officer drank enough at the cold New York outpost that by 1851 he decided to quit altogether. He joined the Sons of Temperance.14
Despite the fact that such careful biographers as Lloyd Lewis attach little actual importance to Grant's membership in the Sons of Temperance, it demonstrates that he already realized what Richardson said he ultimately came to know: "that total abstinence was the only safety for an organization like his."15 As Dr. Donald Goodwin observed, "the control dimension is a key to alcoholism. The person who has to attempt control or who can't control is probably alcoholic." And Grant himself announced at Sacketts Harbor that "I have become convinced that there is no safety from ruin by liquor except by abstaining from it altogether."16 And lest anyone misconstrue the purpose of the Sons of Temperance, its expressed resolution for each member was "to reclaim inebriates; to confirm me in abstinence . . . ; to encourage . . . all reclaimed drunkards."17 Founded in the 1840s, with chapters all over the country, this was hardly the kind of organization any ordinary social-drinking Army officer would join simply for camaraderie. The Sons was, in fact, a precursor of Alcoholic Anonymous where problem drinkers ban together as a support group to help one another stay sober.
Grant either had second thoughts about his drinking problem and quit the Sons of Temperance, or his military assignment to the Pacific Coast took him so far away from the fellowship of other recovering alcoholics that he succumbed to the temptation to drink. In either case the man who joined the Sons in 1851 was drinking again in 1852. Indeed, the admiral on whose ship Grant's regiment was transported to the Isthmus of Central America recalled, rather matter of factly, that the young quartermaster drank regularly. "He never went to bed before three or four in the morning, but would walk up and down the deck smoking a cigar." The admiral said he usually walked the deck with Grant until about midnight. Then the naval officer retired. Grant, he remembered, "had am excellent taste for good liquors. I had given him the liberty of the sideboard in my cabin, and urged him frequently never to be backward in using it as though it were his own, and he never was. Every night after I turned in, I would hear him once or twice, sometimes more, open the door quietly and walk softly over the floor, so as not to disturb me; then I would hear the clink of the glass and a gurgle, and he would walk softly back."18
Hamlin Garland's interviews make it evident that after Grant reached the Pacific Northwest his drinking became a problem.19 Even Grant's most devoted apologists admit that his drinking got the best of him and he was forced to resign from the army for dereliction of duty. The well-meaning defenders of Captain Sam Grant chalk up his aberration to being lonely for his wife and not busy enough in Oregon to be challenged.20
Writing Grant's drinking sprees at Fort Humboldt as the result of loneliness and separation is not persuasive. Grant, after all, was not the only Army officer separated from his family in isolated western locales. For example, as William McFeely so aptly puts its, William Tecumseh Sherman "was almost as much of a failure as Ulysses Grant. He went to West Point when very young, and served in the Mexican War . . . had a tour of duty on the Pacific Coast. . ." and spent time away from his wife and children.21 But Sherman did not have to take to drink to cope, and neither did countless others. Grant had a problem. And with typically alcoholic behavior, he tried to solve it through drink.22
After his separation from the United States Army, Grant returned to the woman and family he loved. While at Sacketts Harbor he stopped drinking for a year in Julia's presence, and no doubt with her encouragement, inasmuch as she urged him to avoid alcohol throughout the war.23 To be sure he made a valiant effort to abstain from alcohol during the late 1850s while they resided in Missouri. He told more than one Army buddy that he was not drinking at all.24 Nevertheless, being forced to live on land given to Julia by her father, unable to support his family on the gift acreage, forced to sell fire wood door-to-door in St. Louis, having to pawn his gold watch one Christmas to buy presents for the family, and even driven to beg his father for money, Grant was haunted again by the old ghost depression; and once in a while he got very drunk.25
As Hamlin Garland summarized the data he gathered on those Missouri years, "whiskey-drinking was well-nigh universal, and Captain Grant was exposed to constant temptation. His wife and children helped him in his fight against his appetite. His safety lay in absolutely abstaining from its use, and for the most part he kept clear of blame. His time of greatest trial came when he met old army friends in St. Louis." Garland, an admirer of Grant whose father fought with the general, noted that this period in the border-slave state "was a time of inner struggle. He fought a silent battle with the liquor habit, and won; and to his faithful wife the highest honor is due. The first two years of his life in Gravois have their dark spots, but gradually he put behind him the habits of army life, and lived without reproach."26
Bruce Catton glossed over this dark period in Grant's life by depicting the impoverished, tortured farmer as a prescient patriot: "People who saw Grant during the last days of St. Louis remembered that he appeared sad and dismayed - and yet this apparently, was less because of his own troubles than because he saw what thoughtful men were seeing them: the approaching disruption of the Federal Union."27 It makes more sense to see Grant as a frequently quiet, moody and depressed man who did not understand himself and what was happening to him. He craved alcohol. Occasionally he succumbed to the temptation. Because his well-meaning but ignorant contemporaries defined his slips and his compulsion to drink as morally reprehensible behavior or a flawed character, the wretched man was laden with guilt. No doubt his soul writhed in the pain of self-doubt and personal inferiority.
Actually, rather than seeing the approaching war as a great tragedy that saddened him, the evidence suggests that U.S. Grant saw it as an escape hatch from his troubles. His attempts to farm and sell real estate in Missouri had been unsuccessful. In fact, he must have viewed himself as an abject failure.
Where does a man turn in the midst of a nation-wide depression? For a time he saw a ray of hope in the Colorado gold rush.28 Plenty of other misfits were making the trek to the Rocky Mountains. Indeed, Colorado was overrun with numerous men and a few women who viewed the mining frontier as a panacea for their economic, family or legal problems. Thousands of alcoholics rushed to Colorado for a geographic cure, being convinced that a respite in the salubrious mountain air would solve their insatiable need to consume alcohol. To other drinkers it was an attractive place to go to drink, away from the watchful eyes of relatives and friends. The underlying motives were often markedly different.29
Fortunately, Grant did not seek a geographic cure in Colorado. Instead, he accepted his father's offer to go to Galena, Illinois and work in the leather store with his brothers. Despite the fact that he now had a regular income to support his family, the move from Missouri to Illinois provided no lasting fulfillment. To be sure Grant did not take to drinking in Galena, but as soon as he could manage it he was off to war, commissioned a colonel in the 21st (the 7th before it went into federal service) Illinois Volunteer Regiment.
Grant's renewed commitment to winning his private war with alcohol was manifested in the way he commanded the 21st Illinois Volunteers. The colonel of volunteers, after all, had lost his commission in the regular army because of alcohol. He knew better than most men the danger involved with drinking. Furthermore, his personal experiences and observations in the Mexican War taught him the problems inherent with drinking and soldiers. It is not surprising therefore that with his regiment, which had a reputation before he took command of being an unruly one, the colonel went on record at the outset as being against drinking. Not only did he not drink, he made it clear that drinking would not be tolerated. In this way he was much like Custer would be nearly a decade and a half later. Grant enforced his order with a ferocity that left few men questioning his resolve. Philip Welsheimer, a first lieutenant with Company B, wrote to his wife that "no person is allowed out of camp after dark unless by permission of the Col. So you can see we have the best of order and everything moves off pleasantly."30 A soldier in the 21st Illinois recalled that the "West Pointer" immediately pushed the poorly disciplined troops to make soldiers out of them. They were drilled six hours a day in camp, and marched to Quincy, Illinois rather than waiting for rail transportation. On the march to Quincy, Grant sent another officer in the lead while he tarried just outside the fairgrounds where the regiment was to camp. Many had liquor in their canteens. He personally and ceremoniously dumped out every spirit-bearing vessel. At another town on a different day he found some of his men in a saloon. The colonel personally cleared the drinking establishment of his troops. As one soldier put it,"Grant took every precaution to keep his men sober, and sometimes after a march had more than a dozen of them tied to saplings at one time. These stern and rigorous methods had their desired effect on the men, for with his punishment he was kind and considerate toward all who respected themselves as soldiers and men."31
The man who had left the United States Army because, in part at least, drinking caused him problems with his commanding officer, was now making a comeback. This time he was determined to change his image. No doubt the men under his command were convinced that the new U.S. Grant was not a drinking man.
As the months and years passed he had numerous opportunities to go on record that he no longer touched spirits. He told William B. Franklin in summer 1862 that he had touched nothing since the war began. And a woman with the Sanitary Commission who observed him in winter 1862-63, reported that he was lying ill and refused the physician's orders that he be stimulated with whiskey. On another occasion that winter she saw him refuse a gift case of brandy offered by a Chicago gentleman, with the comment, "I am greatly obliged but I do not use the article."32
Despite Grant's determination to make a new reputation for himself, old images were difficult to erase. If Grant had a cold or was laid up with a fever, some people assumed the worst. If he had a military setback, the rumors were rampant that he was incapacitated by liquor. As one man noted in 1862, "There is a popular impression that he is intemperate." Although this man did not believe it, and while he asserted "I am assured that this is totally untrue," the rumors persisted. After Shiloh, for example, where all of the evidence reveals that Grant was and had been sober, one officer recorded in his diary that he did not care what the newspapers said about Shiloh, he believed that General Grant should be "cashiered" for the disaster.33
To be sure Ulysses Grant was maligned by those who sought scapegoats or were envious of his success. That he was slandered and accused of drinking when he was as dry as Carrie Nation cannot be denied. Nevertheless, after early 1862, Grant did suffer occasional relapses into his old habit. Although Bruce Catton defended Grant from such charges, Lloyd Lewis told Benjamin P. Thomas "that he had concluded that Grant was such a devoted family man that loneliness for Mrs. Grant largely accounted for Grant's lapses from temperance."34 In other words, Grant did drink, but he had a good excuse.
The preponderance of evidence is that U.S. Grant did drink from time to time. His contemporaries testify to this. General James Harrison Wilson recorded in his diary on June 7, 1863 that he found "Genl. G. intoxicated!" Sylvanous Cadwallader spent time with the General when he was in his cups. John A. Rawlins claimed to have worked diligently to keep Grant straight, and General William F. "Baldy" Smith saw Grant drunk at least once. Furthermore when General Ely S. Parker was asked to comment on the veracity of Rawlins's controversial letters regarding Grant's drinking, he never denied Grant's inebrity but rather attached people who dwelled on the problems in a man's character rather than on his strengths.35
Certainly one can debate the charges that Grant was drunk in April of 1862, June, 1863, or again at other times. In any other case historians E.G. "Pete" Long, Benjamin P. Thomas, William McFeeley - not one of whom can be considered scandalmongers out to defame General Grant - all assume that the Union leader was drunk once in a while.36
The issue, then, is not whether Grant was ever intoxicated during the Civil War. Obviously, he was. The central question is why would a man who knew by this time how dangerous alcohol was for himself, go ahead and drink? The answer here is that because he was an alcoholic with no clinical understanding of his disease, he succumbed to the compulsion to drink now and again despite his personal determination to abstain. Had Grant understood the nature of his disease, perhaps he could have taken necessary steps to arrest it. Most serious students of alcoholic behavior assume that alcoholics have to have spiritual help to overcome the compulsion to drink. As William Wilson and his medical doctor colleague noted in their bible to help alcoholics, "the alcoholic at certain times has no effective mental defense against the first drink. Except in a few rare cases, neither he nor any other human can provide such a defense. His defense must come from a Higher Power."37
This insight, which became the cornerstone of the Society of Alcoholics Anonymous, came indirectly from Dr. Carl G. Jung. One of Dr. Jung's patients evidently was hopelessly addicted to alcohol. In 1931, after extended treatment and analysis, the patient relapsed into intoxication again. Jung finally told the man that "so far as any further medical or psychiatric treatment might be concerned," he was "hopeless." The only ray of hope left, according to the Swiss physican, would be "a spiritual or religious experience - in short, a genuine conversion."38 Jung concluded, and millions of recovered alcoholics in A.A. agree, that "His craving for alcohol was the equivalent on a low level, of the spiritual thirst of our being for wholeness, expressed in medieval language: the union with God."39
Jung's patient did have a conversion experience, and his testimony affected others. Although his pathway is commonly followed by alcoholics in the twentieth century, Grant probably knew nothing of such a way and he most certainly never travelled it. Actually Grant, who was never hostile to religion or spiritually, lived in tepid indifference to it throughout his life. To be sure the general's father had close ties with the church, but Grant avoided such a commitment as he was always faithful to avoid being like the father he never loved nor admired.40
If Grant never recovered from alcoholism, the next question is, what difference does it make unless it affected his generalship. The answer is no difference. However, his ability to command was markedly influenced by his alcoholism. There is not persuasive evidence that U.S. Grant ever lost a battle, needlessly sacrificed men, or made mistakes as a decision maker because he was drunk or hung over. Actually, he was seldom drunk unless there was a lull in battle, usually after the pressure was behind him. Paradoxically, Grant was the great military leader President Lincoln so desperately needed, in part, because he suffered from alcoholism. This disease had such an impact on Grant's personality that it became a factor in his military success.
In 1860 he was broke and without any means to support his family. His slaveowner father-in-law had so little respect for the Yankee that the farm, "Hardscrabble," was given to Julia, not to both of them. Grant's own father was no doubt just as deeply disappointed in the outcome of the life of the lad he had pushed into West Point.
The man who had to beg his father for help must have loathed himself more than others looked down on him. And to make matters even worse, he knew alcohol was no good for him. Julia, the one person who stood by him and had high hopes for him, knew alcohol was poison in his system. Nevertheless, this tortured, almost defeated man added to his own agony by drinking again and again.
Consequently, when the war began Grant saw it as a modest opportunity. He could get away, earn some money away from the benevolence of his father, and even make a limited contribution to the Union effort. He was, after all, a West Point graduate and a combat veteran.
It is unlikely that Grant held out any high hopes for himself in the conflict. His low self-esteem because of his alcoholism and previous failures led him, early on at least, to underestimate his capabilities. In any case he must have felt his usual luck precluded any major achievement because he nearly gave up on getting an appointment from the Illinois governor, and he almost resigned in 1862 after some unfavorable turn of events.41
The point is that Grant had no sterling military career to protect; he had no brilliant political future to enhance. He was the antithesis to George B. McClellan, who, in T. Harry William's words, " was considered to be the foremost authority on the theory of war," and John C. Fremont "was eager to get into the army, and powerful political interests backed him for a commission."42
When generals who had high self-esteem proved overly cautious because they knew an erroneous move or devastating defeat could cripple their chances for promotion, glory, or political advancement, Grant the habitual loser could follow his usually correct assessments of the military scene. Because he did have keen instincts, because he was a natural leader of men in combat, and because he had absolutely nothing to lose, Grant could brush aside caution. He smashed on to victory after victory until he could not be ignored despite the questionable background, the rumors, and the jealousy in high places.
Immediately after the bloody battle called The Wilderness, one of Robert E. Lee's commanders told the Virginian "I think there is no doubt that Grant is retreating." Lee's sage reply was "You are mistaken. Grant is not retreating: he is not a retreating man."43 When this decisive point of the 1864 Virginia campaign had passed, Lincoln praised Grant for going forward in pursuit of the Confederates. The President of the United States told one man that after such a battle as The Wilderness any previous Army of the Potomac commander would have pulled back across the Rapidan to nurse wounds and regroup.44 But not Ulysses S. Grant. His lonely battle with alcohol, and his years of personal failure and disappointment, freed him to challenge fate, damn the consequences, and doggedly pursue Lee's army. After all, in his mind he assumed he had little to lose. Few things turned out well for him.
General Grant's failures as president demonstrate the reverse of the Civil War scenario. At the end of the great war the enigmatic man who rose from obscurity now had a golden reputation and a future to protect. In politics Grant became as marked a failure as the generals he surpassed in the war.
Ulysses S. Grant continued to wrestle with alcohol after 1865. Liquor never caused scandals for him like it did during the War Between the States, but his occasional relapses ultimately took their toll. Heretofore his slow, painful death from cancer of the mouth and throat had been assumed to be the consequence of heavy smoking. But a 1978 Department of Health, Education and Welfare report of alcoholism concludes that alcohol is "indisputably involved" in the cause of several types of cancer. Among these are "cancers of the mouth and pharynx, larynx . . ."45 Evidently the courageous soldier who defeated the Confederates lost his longer war with the disease of alcoholism.
4For nineteenth century views see Daniel Dorchester, The Liquor Problem in All Ages (New York: Phillips and Hunt, 1884). [The clinical definition of alcoholism offered today by the National Council on Alcoholism is: "An alcoholic is a person who has a continuing problem in any area of his life, caused by alcohol, who continues to drink." The American Medical Association definition is: "A highly complex illness characterized by preoccupation with alcohol and loss of control over its consumption such as to lead usually to intoxification when drinking is begun, by chronicity; by progression, and by tendency toward relapse."]
5See case studies in Alcoholics Anonymous: The Story of How Many Thousands of Men and Women Have Recovered From Alcoholism (New York: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1976), Third Edition. See also the following works on the disease concept of alcoholism: Donald Goodwin, Is Alcoholism Hereditary? (New York: Oxford U. Press, 1976), Alcoholism: The Facts(New York: Oxford U. Press, 1981), and Donald Goodwin and Samuel Guze, Psychiatric Diagnosis, Chapter 7, "Alcoholism," (New York: Oxford U. Press, 1979). Also useful is Ernest Kurtz, Not-God: A History of Alcoholics Anonymous (Center City, Minnesota: Hazeldon Educational Services, 1979).
7Norman H. Clark, Deliver Us From Evil: An Interpretation of American Prohibition (New York: Norton, 1976), p. 28; John Maxwell O'Brien, "Alexander and Dioynsus: The Invisible Enemy,"Annals of Scholarship, I. No. 4 (Fall, 1980), 83-103, and O'Brien's earlier essay, "The Engima of Alexander: The Alcohol Factor," Annals of Scholarship, I, No. 3 (Summer, 1980), 31-46.
9W. M. Wemett, "Custer's Expedition to the Black Hills in 1874," North Dakota Historical Quarterly, VI, No. 4 (July, 1932), 296; Jerry Kennan, "Exploring the Black Hills: An Account of the Custer Expedition," Journal of the West, VII, No. 2 (April, 1967), 248-61.
13Richardson, Grant, 138; Garland, Grant, 92; John Lowe to Manorah Lowe, May 12, 1848, Lowe MS (Dayton and Montgomery County Ohio Public Library) quoted in Carl M. Becker, "Was Grant Drinking in Mexico?", Bulletin of the Cincinnati Historical Society, XXIV, No. 1 (January, 1966), 70-71.
29For the drinking problem in Colorado see George W. Bishop, Charles H. Dow and the Dow Theory (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1960), 312; Thomas J. Noel, "The Multifunctional Frontier Saloon; Denver, 1858-1876," The Colorado Magazine, LII, No. 2 (Spring, 1975), 114-36.
32W. B. Franklin to William F. Smith, Dec. 28, 1863, Box 114, Smith Papers, Vermont Historical Society; undated clipping, "A Woman," to the Philadelphia Press, Grant Family Papers, Coll. 30/6/2, "Drinking File," Southern Illinois University.
33"Whiskey" file, Lloyd Lewis-Bruce Catton Research Notes, III-116, quotation from the Cincinnati Commercial, October 15, 1862; Diary of Lt. Col. Samuel McFarland of the 19th Iowa Volunteer Infantry in the personal library of Donald Walker, Boulder, Colorado.
34See Bruce Catton, "Introduction," The Personal Memoirs of Julia Dent Grant, John Y. Simon, ed. (New York: G. P. Putman's Sons, 1975), 305. Thomas quotes a conversation he had with Lloyd Lewis in his edited version of Sylvanus Cadwallader, Three Years with Grant, (New York: Knopf, 1955), 119.
35James Harrison Wilson Diary, 1863, photocopy from the Delaware Historical Society, Newark, Delaware; Benjamin P. Thomas, ed., Sylvanus Cadwallader, Three Years with Grant; Smith's manuscript "Autobiography," Box 112, Vermont Historical Society; E. S. Parker to J. C. Smith, February 15, 1887, MS in the Illinois State Historical Library.
45A United Press International description of this HEW report, complete with Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare Joseph Califano's accompanying statement, is printed in the Rocky Mountain News [Denver], October 18, 1978, 70.